Revved to the Maxx

by Melanie Moreland

  His face went lax as I slowly stood, letting my fingers drift higher. I inched closer, keeping my voice low. “You like girls on their knees in front of you, Wes?”

  “Yes,” he grunted.

  “You know what I like?” I whispered.

  His eyes drifted shut as I ran my fingers up his thighs. I was pretty sure he was getting hard, but I was also certain I understood part of his aggression now. He wasn’t packing much heat. I only hoped my aim was good.

  “What?”

  I slowly rose to my feet. “I like bringing assholes down a peg or two.”

  His eyes flew open just as my knee met his groin. The exploding pain showed on his face, the shock in his gaze. He stumbled, falling to the ground, clutching his groin. I reached down and grabbed the envelope, hissing as his foot kicked out, catching me in the arm. I ignored the flash of pain and headed to my car as fast as I could.

  “Have a good day,” I called, gunning the engine and getting out of the parking lot in a hurry. He was still lying on the gravel as I checked my rearview mirror.

  It was a job well done.

  I did the shopping, feeling oddly jumpy, even though it was broad daylight and the store wasn’t busy. After I was done, I drove to a little clothing store Mary had said had some nice things, and I bought a couple of blouses and a new skirt. The woman who ran it, Sarah, was very chatty and helpful. She was pleased to know Mary had sent me. There were lots of articles of clothing that caught my eye, but I didn’t want to linger, and I told her I would come back with Mary another time. I used the groceries in the car as an excuse, but the truth was, I was feeling jittery after my run-in with Wes.

  I stopped at Mary’s, grateful she was out, and left the milk in her fridge, then drove to Maxx’s. I felt better simply pulling up in front of the building, knowing Maxx was inside and close. I headed to the garage, walking through the wide doors, feeling relief. Brett was working on a car, and he waved as I walked through. Maxx was at the desk, writing something. He looked up as I strolled in, trying desperately to appear casual.

  I slid the envelope on the desk. “Petty cash, the grocery receipt, and the change. You bought Mary some milk.”

  He grunted. “Holy shit, it’s been crazy.”

  “Well, holy moly, why didn’t you call? I would have come back.”

  He pushed off from the desk. “Because I gave you the day off. We managed.” He picked up the envelope and brushed it off, looking at me quizzically.

  “I dropped it. Sorry.”

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  He studied me, then let it go. “Brett filled up the propane tank. We’re going to barbecue dinner, so you don’t have to worry about it. I found some steaks in the freezer.”

  “Oh. That’s a nice surprise. I’ll make a salad, and I got some new potatoes we can have. Easy peasy.”

  “Great. Then you can tell me about this website thing.”

  “All right.” I paused. “I need some help carrying the groceries in.”

  “Sure.” He followed me to the car, lifting out the bags. “Peaches?” he asked as I grabbed the small basket.

  “I was going to make cobbler.”

  “I love cobbler.”

  “Well then, it’s your lucky day.”

  He followed me into the house, setting down the bags.

  “Did you fall or something while you were out?”

  My hand stilled as I opened one of the bags. “Sorry?”

  “You have dust on your ass and down your leg.”

  “Oh, um, yeah, I tripped in the parking lot of the bank.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Nope.”

  He eyed me speculatively. “All right. You get stuff prepped. Brett and I will handle the cooking.”

  I sniffed. “Will it be edible?”

  I wanted to rile him up a little. Make him come closer. My comment did it. He stalked over to me, crowding me against the counter.

  “I grill well, I’ll have you know.”

  “You certainly grill me,” I retorted.

  “You have no idea how much I want to grill you.” He scowled, trying not to laugh.

  That was what I needed. His gruff words, his closeness, even for a moment. Without thinking, I looped my arms around his waist and hugged him. For a moment, he was stiff with shock, then he wrapped one arm around me, holding me close. His voice was quiet when he spoke, filled with a gentleness I wasn’t used to hearing.

  “Charly, what’s wrong?”

  I pulled back and ducked under his arm. “Nothing. I just needed a hug. Now get out so I can put away the groceries and enjoy the rest of my day off, gosh dang it.” I wagged my finger at him. “Dinner better be good.”

  He was quiet, then nodded. “It will be. Your reasons for that new website better be good as well.”

  “Don’t worry, Maxx. I won’t disappoint.”

  He turned and left, muttering. I thought he said, “You never do,” but I could have been mistaken. After all, that would be a compliment, and Maxx had reached his limit on those yesterday.

  Surely, I couldn’t expect them two days in a row.

  I headed upstairs to change out of my dirty jeans, wash my face, and get ready to face him and his attitude after dinner.

  MAXX

  Something was up with Charly, but what, I didn’t know. She seemed anxious. Maybe it was having to talk about the website and the new logo she had come up with. Except her unexpected hug made me think it was something else.

  It was as if she was seeking shelter for a moment. It made me feel odd and somewhat angry. What had occurred that she needed to feel safe?

  I watched her during dinner. She seemed fine, and I relaxed. Women were a strange lot, and I never thought I understood them. Perhaps she had been having a bad day and needed a hug. My dad used to hug my mom close if she was upset or having a difficult day. “Come along, sweetheart. I got you,” he would croon as he rocked her. “Let the day go. Just let it go.”

  My question was—what made Charly have a bad day? That question lingered in my head, making me restless and a little edgy. The fact that it bothered me at all made me even edgier.

  Brett and I cleared the table, then Brett left to go pick up more of his stuff from his dad’s place, leaving Charly and me alone. He clapped my shoulder before he left.

  “She has some great ideas. Listen to her.”

  She set her laptop on the table and opened it. “Dinner was great. And not doing the dishes was a treat. Is that going to happen all the time?” she teased.

  “Nope. Don’t get used to it.”

  She sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

  She tapped some keys and showed me the new website. It was bright, bold, and clear. The new logo she had designed was featured on each page. She even had a history of the garage, and there were pages about the restoration side as well as the services offered.

  “You have very few women clients,” she informed me.

  “We have a couple,” I argued.

  “You should have more. There is a huge untapped potential for business. I looked around in Lomand and Littleburn. Hundreds of women drive cars and trucks, even motorcycles, but where do they have them serviced?”

  I scratched my beard. “No idea.”

  “We want them coming here.” She pulled in a long inhale of air. “For most women, going to a garage is overwhelming. It’s a language many of us don’t understand. Our vehicle doesn’t work right, but often a mechanic doesn’t really listen since we don’t speak ‘car.’” She paused. “Even if we do, often we aren’t listened to because of our gender.”

  “I don’t treat my woman customers that way.”

  “Exactly. So, we need to get the word out that Reynolds Restorations and Repairs is different.”

  “How do you want to do that?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “And why did you add repairs?”

  “I added ‘repairs’ so people know you do more than restorations. I
will mention you’re a full-service garage in all the ads and marketing. As for getting the word out—some basic classes. Teach women how to speak car. What the parts are. How they work.” She held up her hand before I could speak. “If I get how something works, then I understand it better. I feel more comfortable asking questions. I’m not talking in-depth, do-your-own repairs, Maxx. Simple one-hour classes offered every month—free of charge. Brett says he’s happy to do some.”

  “I don’t want to have to corral a bunch of women in the garage. They’d all be talking and comparing lipsticks instead of listening,” I groused, imagining the scene.

  “You just love to chap my ass, don’t you? I thought this through. We’ll keep it limited—more exclusive. Before you know it, we’ll have a waiting list.”

  I was silent, mulling over her words. It made sense. I had always wondered why I had so few women customers. Maybe Charly was onto something. She’d obviously given the idea a great deal of thought, but I wasn’t ready to give in just yet. She would never expect me to capitulate so easily. I hadn’t growled near enough yet to please her. And for some reason, I wanted to please her. On lots of levels.

  She clicked to another page, and I studied it. “I thought we agreed I would set the prices,” I said, my voice low and challenging.

  “Holy moly, I just filled them in—they’re suggestions.” She sounded frustrated. “Maxx, I checked every garage within a ten-mile radius of you. I got Brett to get me the price lists in Toronto. Even if you raised your prices to what I have listed here, you’re still one of the lowest around. And with my projections, your profits go up substantially—even with paying Brett.” She slid a paper my way. “You can even afford to hire another body and concentrate on the restorations. Those profit projections are on the back.”

  I studied the page, then turned it over and whistled. “Are you sure these are accurate?”

  “If we bring in more customers and produce a higher output, yes.”

  I scrubbed my face. “You’re asking for a lot here, Charly.”

  “What do you have to lose, Maxx? If I’m wrong, you let Brett and his friend go. You fire me, and you go back to business as usual. Easy peasy. If I’m right, you get to free up your time and do what you love and have the garage too. We’re already seeing an increase in business with Brett here. He let some of his customers who lived this side of Toronto know where he was working, and they came here. Others will too. The same with his friend. Add in the new advertising I’m planning, the outreach to the women of the community, and I see a real upswing.”

  I grunted, letting her know I was thinking. Part of me was so damn proud of her, I wanted to kiss her. She was brilliant, and she had no idea. When I placed that ad, I had no clue. I had hoped for someone to upgrade the website a little. Tidy the office. Cook a few meals. Maybe help sort out that part of my life so I could sort out the mess in my head.

  She had stepped in and, with her mouthy, quirky attitude, became more than I dared to wish for. She had become something vitally important to me. She was more than I hoped for—and way better than I deserved.

  She was simply Charly. And that, I realized, was something incredibly special.

  Even if she drove me mental most of the time.

  I was quiet too long, and she started rambling in that nervous way of hers.

  “We can adjust the pricing. It was only a suggestion.”

  I grunted.

  “Brett could handle the women’s classes. They’d love him. Easy on the eyes, funny, and sweet. He’d bring them in in droves. Tall, good-looking, and that curly blond hair and his blue eyes? They’ll love it.”

  I glared at her. She thought he was easy on the eyes? And when did she decide she liked blond hair and blue eyes?

  A small rumble emitted from my mouth.

  “With any luck, his friend will look good in the coveralls I plan on them wearing. We women love a man in a uniform.”

  “Coveralls are not uniforms.” I scowled.

  “Oh, but they are.” She warmed to the subject. “A hot, sexy, somewhat greasy mechanic in a pair of overalls talking about tightening your fan belt? Or your overheating chassis? Total turn-on. We’ll pack them in.”

  “What if I taught the courses, Charly?” I asked through gritted teeth. “How would they do then?”

  She fanned herself. “All growly and rough? Telling them to make sure to change their oil regularly and rotate their tires for optimal performance? We’d be booked solid, and they’d all request the grouchy bear-man.”

  I cursed under my breath, shifting in my chair, feeling my erection kick up. I was going to show her an optimal performance, all right.

  “So,” she began. “Next. The new logo is fun. Eye-catching. Maybe a little sexy,” she stated. “You know—to attract new customers.”

  “Performance Guaranteed?” I snarled.

  She licked her lips. “It’s true. You are, ah, good, with your, um, tools.”

  Instantly, the conversation took on a totally different meaning.

  “Even when I’m hard as steel, Red?” I questioned, my voice gruff.

  The way I am right now? I wanted to add, feeling my cock pressing against the material of my sweats.

  “Oh.” She looked confused. “Well, you’re a little…ah, it depends on, you know… the kind of mood you’re in. Sometimes, you’re faster than others. Your tools are, um, good. I mean, great. Well-handled. And you always satisfy. I mean, the job is always well done.” She stuttered and stammered.

  Her usually pale cheeks were flooded with color. Her hands were waving in the air the way they did when she was flustered. Her gaze bounced around everywhere, never meeting my eyes and never settling. She shifted in her chair, unable to sit still.

  I knew those tells. She wasn’t thinking about the logo or the website any more than I was right then.

  The only tool she was thinking about was the one currently hard as steel—for her.

  In one movement, I slammed the laptop shut and dragged her onto my lap. She gasped, grasping my neck as I held her close.

  “You did this deliberately, didn’t you, Red? Thought all this up, knowing how I would react.” I ground myself up into her heat, groaning at the feel of her pressing back against me.

  “Only after,” she whimpered. “I realized how you would take it.”

  “Oh, I’m going to take it all right. Just as soon as you ask me nicely.”

  She pulled my mouth to hers, and we kissed. I plunged my tongue into her mouth, tasting the peaches from dessert, the sweetness highlighting her flavor, which I found addictive. I gripped her hips, fisting the silky material of the skirt she’d changed into. I liked the way it swirled around her knees as she moved, showing off her sexy legs. She moaned deep in her throat as I licked my way up her neck, cursing into her ear as she undulated over me.

  “Up,” I commanded, pulling up the material that separated us in my hands and bunching it around her. She made fast work of the sweats I was wearing, yanking them down, then crying out as I sat back down and pulled her back to my lap, the only thing separating us the thin silk of her thong.

  “Maxx,” she gasped. “Oh god, you’re so big. Massive.”

  I scowled. “You drive me fucking crazy. But I meant it. Ask me, Red. You have to ask me.”

  “It’s just sex,” she replied, the statement sounding more like a question.

  “Yes,” I snarled, thrusting up, desperate to be inside her.

  “But I want you,” she murmured, her lips at my ear. “You want me?”

  “You can feel how much I want you,” I groaned. “My cock is aching.” I fisted the tiny lace straps on her hips. “Put me out of my misery, Red.”

  “Holy moly. Fuck me, Maxx. Use that big tool and tune me up,” she breathed, the word fuck never sounding so sexy before now.

  The straps broke under my hands. In seconds I was deep inside her, the heat and wet of her surrounding me. She buried her face in my neck as I drove myself upward, gripping
her hips and guiding her. She cried out as I hit that spot inside her that drove her to new heights. I wrapped one arm around her, imprisoning her against me as I moved. She gripped me tight, her embrace locked around my neck. She whimpered and moaned, her lips against my ear. She pleaded and begged. Cried out my name. She strangled my cock, her muscles clamping down and holding me prisoner. My balls tightened as she began to orgasm, her body stiffening as she bent back, crying out her release.

  I kissed my way down her throat, sucking on her nipples through the thin material of her T-shirt, the lace showing through the wet spot on the fabric as I moved between them. I kept moving, grunting and roaring out in my need. Her eyes flew open wide, her breathing becoming harder.

  “I’m going to…oh god…I’m going to come…again. Maxx, please, I can’t… I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can, Red. Come all over me again. Soak me. I want to feel it. Feel you.” I reached between us and found her bundle of nerves, stroking over her lightly. Just enough to send her over the edge again.

  She cried out, her climax hitting her again, pulling mine from me like I was in a vortex, spinning my world on its axis. I roared her name, dragging her up my chest and kissing her as if my life depended on the feel of her mouth underneath mine. I needed her oxygen to breathe. I had to have the taste of her in my mouth as I came. I needed her as close as possible to survive.

  Reality returned slowly. She was clutched in my arms, her head on my shoulder, her body limp in my embrace. I was a mass of loose limbs and sweat-soaked skin, gripping her to me. The laptop was halfway across the table. The chair had left marks on the wooden floor where the feet dug into the wood. The light over the table swung slightly in the aftermath.

  And Red was crying.

  I sat up straight, running my hands over her. “Where? Where are you hurt?” I asked, frantic.

  “I’m not,” she hiccuped.

  “You’re crying.” I had never seen Red cry before. She was always brave and feisty.

  “It’s just a release,” she sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I’m good. I’m really good.”